Ratchet and Clank: Weapons of Mass Dysfunction
by Berserk1
Summary: Amidst a war, even unlikely heroes stand up to take charge.


Had an idea for a story. Why not share it with you all? Enjoy my labors. 

Disclaimer: yadda yadda, don't own, yadda yadda

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Planet Drakthera. Capital of the Draktherian Empire, bordering the Solana galaxy. In the main throne room, two residents are seen arguing. One is sitting in the center chair, robed in pearl white with gold embeleshed trims. His bronze scales are mostly covered by the regalia, only revealing his claws and face.  
The other sports full plate armor, not used for conventional war but serves a more decorative purpose of signifying rank and royalty.

"Weaklings. That is all that governs this galaxy. The weak inherit what the strong build. This is the very reason we must reclaim our rightful place." a shallow hiss followed.

"My son, time and again you call for war upon this neighbor of ours and every time my answer is the same. We will not instigate war with those that do not seek it." an elderly voice replied.

"You would rather sit idle while whole worlds are ripe for the taking? Father, think of the expansions we can accomplish. This galaxy is scattered and divided. Their so-called government has no real power to oppose us. It would be as simple as stealing from a child."

"What would be the results? Lives lost, worlds ravaged for no gain, families and communities utterly shattered by the conflicts. You must see what will happen ahead before you act now." Standing up, the elder of the two rested a claw on the other's shoulder, even though he was dwarfed by the other's size. "You must put these notions of war aside. We are a peaceful people now." The son only growled in disgust.

"As you wish father." Hesitating on the last word, he walks away defeated. His green scales nearly red with rage he shoves aside a much smaller draktherian (its the word i will use for calling these new people). Wiping off the dirt from his azure robe, he addressed his king.

"I see Argus came to you again with council of war father?" There was no anger in this one's voice, he seemed almost innocent.

The elder stared into the distance. "He does not understand notions of peace and demilitarizing. We are a peaceful race now. Our lands are vast enough for all, there is no need to expand." He turns his head back. "Now, what is it you wanted to ask Korsus?" Korsus held out a letter pulled from within his robes. Taking the letter, his father could only give a toothy smile. "Ah, speaking of that devil. It would seem that a representitive is going to be sent to negotiate with us.

"What is he going to negotiate?" Korsus tilted his head questioningly.

"Just politics my boy. Nothing you would find interesting. Now run along and play, your father has much work to do." With that, Korsus left the room, leaving his father to sit and ponder what his other son has planned.  
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Planet Marcadia. Outside a local Galaxy Burger. A small robot exits the door holding a tray filled with burgers and other assorted fast foods. Standing next to a ship he taps his foot while waiting for the hatch to open.

"Erm. Ratchet?" Nothing "Ratchet, I have the food you wanted." Nothing still "I guess you won't be wanting your 'delighted child's meal' you specifically instructed me to get." A pair of yellow ears perked up after hearing that last remark. Almost jumping out of the vehicle, Ratchet grabs the tray and throws it inside.

"He's uh, kidding about that. I have to tune his...observation sensors again it seems." Dodging any glances he throw's Clank into the ship as well. "You couldn't wait another two seconds? I was just enjoying a song on my mp400." Clank imagined himself rolling his eyes...if he had actual eyes instead of just optic sensors.

"You really shouldn't have them that loud then...something might happen."

"Yeah, people might think I still eat kid's meals. Oh how horrible, the galaxy would be torn apart." Starting the engine, Ratchet sets the transport to fly back to his prized ship, 'The Phoenix' a gift from someone special to him. Pulling into the docking bay, he grabs the tray and heads to the control center with Clank close behind. Passing a few galatic rangers he dumped it in front of a large technician who looked up from a computer console.

"Well, I see you got my order right, this time." Grabbing the nearest burger, he litteraly throws it down his throat, enjoying a disgusted look Ratchet makes.

"Yeah, and the cost was almost as big as you Al. How do you seriously eat this garbage?" Seeing he wasn't going to get an answer, Ratchet sits down in his control chair and activates it's recliner.

"Oh, someone called while you were out. A...savra, no, sahsba, no." Al scratched his head trying to remember the name, also the message for that matter as he was busy with a Captain Qwark vid comic while that person called.

"Sasha!?" Ratchet exclaimed.

"That's the one. She seemed urgent in her message so I wrote it down...which seems to have been misplaced."

"You don't remember do you?" Al shakes his head no, found out. Sighing, Ratchet digs up the call id on the ship and locates Sasha's number. "It's been a long time since we talked, ever since she told us about Captain Starshield before our dreadzone incident, we haven't really talked since." Clank pushes the call button when Ratchet isn't looking.

-ring- -ring- An image of a Cazar with formal attire on appeared.

"Hello, you've reached the mayor of Metropolis. Ratchet? Is that you?" Ratchet continues to talk unaware Sasha is on screen hearing everything he says.

"And I've been meaning to call, but I'm sure she will never go for 'Oh Dreadzone had the worst reception' or whatever I...Oh hey Sasha...how long have you been there? Listening to me?" He lets out a nervous chuckle.

"Enough to know where you been. And I'm glad you got back safely. There was no answer from your ship for quite a while so I figured you were taken."

"Then why didn't you send anyone to help?"

"I figured you could get yourself out of it, being you're a hotshot and all." She winks at him, making Ratchet blush a bit under his fur. Clank clears his throat in an attempt to get a say in the matter.

"I hate to interupt you love birds but there was some sort of important message you wanted to give us." Ratchet and Sasha looked away from their screens trying to look normal after that remark.

"Um, right. Recently my father has made contact with the nearby empire of Draktheria, hoping to establish good relations with them and avoid any conflicts. We need someone to go and escort the courier to the meeting zone." Ratchet grins.

"And you wanted us to be the body guards." Sasha just shrugged her shoulders.

"I couldn't think of anyone more suited."

"So who's the guy we have to protect?"

"I'm afraid this is a big mistake but my father asked Captain Qwark to be our messanger boy. Something about 'Hero of the Galaxy' might impress the Draktherians."

"Just out of curiosity, what do these draktherians look like anyway?" An image of the basic Draktherian trooper appeared on the vid screen. They looked like a mix of humanoid creatures with draconic features, crests, claws, tails, slitted eyes and spines running down the backs. Commonly blue but colors will vary depending on region and climate.

"They are known to be extremely prideful, hostile to any possible offense. Quick to anger and harder to calm down once got going. You have to be careful of what you say or this whole thing might be blown."

"So, when do we start?"  
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Starship Phoenix, Ratchet's quarters. Staring at the mission data, Ratchet scratches his head thinking over the possible escape methods he'll need after Qwark screws up the negotiations. They were being held on the Galactic Cruiser 'Faith' second most famous ship in the fleet. He still had a few hours to deny the request but something in Ratchet told him he had to go. Whether it was Sasha using her begging face or the fact that Ratchet could finally do something interesting after the long gap in activity after Dreadzone, either proved to be the deciding point. Throwing on his old Dreadzone outfit, which he kept out of need for armor and the fact that he modded it with some new...features such as a tail exit, why waste the bolts, Ratchet headed to the transport. Taking one last look at the image of a Draktherian trooper, he shuddered then tossed the data slate.

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Draktherian Capital Ship 'Vengence' Argus' chambers. Pacing about, Argus rants about the decline in the empire and how his lineage is the laughing stock of the noble houses. An image jumps onto the nearby comm screen drawing him out of his rant.

"I see you're looking well sir."

"Cut the formalities, is everything ready?" Argus was impatient enough already.

"Teams are ready and will strike when the orders are given."

"When the pens hit the paper, the lances hit the hulls." Taking his eyes away from the screen, Argus allowed himself a brief smile. "Father was right, you have to see the after effects of your actions before you do them."

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End file.
